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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28101621">All Is Right All Is Bright</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SigmaEnigma/pseuds/SigmaEnigma'>SigmaEnigma</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Grillby/Reader [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Undertale (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon/Reader - Freeform, Reader Is Not Frisk (Undertale), Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 21:29:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,384</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28101621</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SigmaEnigma/pseuds/SigmaEnigma</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel of Don't Make a Sound<br/>"Your wallet is warm.</p><p>And you’re an idiot.</p><p>You’ve been acting like an idiot."</p><p>Grillby/Reader fic. Reader insert has no pronouns/gender specific words used for them (in this fic, first part had them female bodied).</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Grillby (Undertale)/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Grillby/Reader [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/461179</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
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</div><p>Your wallet is warm.</p><p>And you’re an idiot.</p><p>You’ve been acting like an idiot.</p><p>You fling your door open in a panic. Scrambling out onto your porch to maybe just grab a glimpse of him still leaving and spot of trace of his light and haze just out of the corner of your eye.</p><p>“Grillby!” He freezes, turning back to look at you. You hear the sounds of other people pausing in their yard and the overwhelming fear in you that fears what they might think is hoping they think nothing of this. You rush after him, leaning over the white, picturesque fence that the housing committee insisted every house have, and ignore the blistering cold in your bare feet.</p><p>Your hand is just about to be in his when you’re ripped from everything right, into a world where your alarm clock blares and the sun is too bright on your eyes. Sounds of construction from above reminds you of your location and the emptiness of your bed and the unreasonable actions you took that lead you to have no one to blame but yourself.</p><p>You pull the covers off of you and try to kick away the dream and the events that created it. You remind yourself that in this world you made imperfect decisions and that even if you did do what you conjured in your dreams the outcome couldn’t be all you imagined.</p><p>You remind yourself of your life outside of Grillby and his bar. You also remember how short your life has been in the days between each one and the next. You think of places you’ve never been and things you’ve never seen. Outside the window you see the same snow and try to remember just what this underground had beside your job and loss of self. Your house feels less comfortable and more, constricting. You pick the most comfortable clothes you can find and begin the long trek outside your house.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>As you reach town, your hands beginning to blister, feet aching from the walk, shoulders shivering while your forehead sweats as the remaining heat on your body gets sapped away by the cold, the quiet of everything takes you. Footfall and townsfolk chatter all absorbed by the eternally fresh snow. Above you are pine branches and you duck just slightly to dodge a branch that wasn’t that low to begin with, but has a charm about its near inability to hold the snow that weighs it down. Your dodge is taken, at least by the tree, in silently thanked politeness. To your left and right and front you dodge humans and monsters alike all trying to finish the last busying tasks of the day and as always, in the center of it all, is Grillby’s.</p><p>In your fridge at home, you remember a to-go order packed snugly away that is still uneaten.</p><p>All while setting your feet in footprints that are not your own towards a place they all seem to lead to.</p><p>You wonder just how many footprints can lead to the small bar when the capital has many places just like it, if not larger and more name-branded.</p><p>At the same time remembering your wallet, running your hand against it in your wallet.</p><p>It’s cold by now.</p><p>You reach the door of Grillby’s and catch a glimpse of wait-staff delivering food to tables in the form of rushing blurred silhouettes through the glass. You push the door aside and take in the warmth of the bar, steps more eager and light despite the snow weighing down your shoes. It melts anyway.</p><p>You take your seat at the bar. From your right you hear unfamiliar chatter, and turn to see the voice’s owner. Where the voice comes from is what appears to be a skeleton. Who, in your opinion, looks too fat to be a skeleton, but the skull for a head and clear skeletal hands make it undeniable that they are indeed, a skeleton. Speaking to them, is Grillby. Who, either didn’t see you come in, or is ignoring you upon your unspoken request to be completely invisible to him, as evident the last few weeks.</p><p>But this isn’t like the past few weeks.</p><p>“Excuse me.” Your voice slides between the two’s conversation, and it’s the skeleton that looks at you first, Grillby following quickly after. The flame on the bartender’s head seems to push with a sigh and you know the exact reason.</p><p>“To-go order?” Grillby’s voice sounds distant and…tired? No. Maybe hurt.</p><p>“No, in-house special tonight.” You offer Grillby a smile. Nothing big, just something that can’t be mistaken for a trick of the light.</p><p> </p><p></p><div>
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<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Another Hour</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>One of the unfinished ficlets that was for this series that's not big enough to warrant a whole fic on its own.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div>
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</div><p> “You’re going to be late for work.” Grillby says somewhere far and off into the distance. Your eyes are still shut when he repeats the phrase, voice seeming closer. You linger in your drowsy limbo and begin to feel patches of heat touching you through the covers, warm lips kissing your shoulder and back of your neck, causing you to fall into a warmth you never want to leave.</p><p>“’s okay.” You respond sleepily. Leaning into him. Does work have to be a thing? Can’t you just stay here? Would it be too much to ask the universe to pause for a while?</p><p>“You say that now,” He gently pulls back the covers, exposing you to the frigid morning air. You shiver, and he leans down again, apologetically kissing your cheek. “I made breakfast.”</p><p>“That’s nice.” You reach up for him, groggy and not caring enough about breakfast to actually get up in any way. Well, your stomach is growling, but you’re not cognitive enough to put in the effort to do something about that.</p><p>“Yes it is nice.” There’s a hint of a smile in his voice. You can feel his hands running up and down your arm, fingers brushing finely against your skin. You make a small noise, still not willing to get up and trying to fit all your emotions and stances on that into a single non-word. It’s then your turn and, opening one eye enough to see the blur of Grillby’s form flickering against the still darkened bedroom. You sneak a glance at your nightstand’s clock and something in your head clicks as you try to regain functional use of your eyes and reasonable part of your brain to read the numbers over and over again.</p><p>It’s well before you need to get up for work, an hour and a half maybe? You catch a glimpse of Grillby and perhaps he realizes you’ve figured out the time because he takes a half-step back. You gather enough of yourself back from unconsciousness in order to lay on your side, resting your arm on the pillow and setting the side of your head onto your opened palm. You give him a tired smile, it might’ve been called a smirk if you were actually trying.</p><p>“Late for work, huh?” His posture slacks, but just slightly. Yellows begin moving up his neck towards the center of his face, fading outwards. “Do you know something I don’t?” You pat the edge of the bed, making room for him as he sits.</p><p>“I thought…maybe…” What he thought and whatever maybe was going to be followed by vanish inward. He’s turned towards you partially, but his attention seems elsewhere, his stance that of someone ready to leave at any moment if asked. You sit up then, leaning your head on his shoulder, body pressed against his back, arm lazily reaching around his waist.</p><p>“Couldn’t just wait till I got home?” A small laugh bubbles in you, you let him in on the joke before he bolts for the door. Your hand maybe moving off his waist and a tad more steadily against his thigh. “Does the fire-man have morning wood burning?” </p><p>Wow that was bad. Good job you.</p><p>to Now his hands are getting added into the mix along with his lips, hands which are having a real fun time feeling up and down your sides, especially your backside.</p><p>“Now aren’t you going to be late for work?” You turn to look at him, his hands squeeze at your ass again.</p><p>“The bar’ll still be there in another hour.” He mumbles, kissing you briefly. Too briefly.</p><p>“Another hour?”</p><p> </p><p></p><div>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The Happy Ending I've owed you all for years.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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